


Wreathed in Flame

by crackinthecup



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Slash, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackinthecup/pseuds/crackinthecup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The child stood before me, wreathed in flame." A different take on what might have happened in the Forbidden Forest, at the end of DH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wreathed in Flame

"I will kill you, Harry Potter; but not tonight."  
  
Time seemed to stop then, breathless like all the rest—a silent spectator stepping aside to watch a play unfurl.  
  
But this was not a play: the ghost, whose presence had been thick, heavy in the air, a thrum of electricity singing to the tune of anticipation, took flight, retreating to veiled shadows and setting the wheels of destiny in motion.  
  
Some gasped, some screamed, some drew back under the darkness cast by trees. I paid them no heed. With an imperious gesture, I bid them depart, and not even Bellatrix was foolish enough to linger.  
  
The child stood before me, wreathed in flame. His breath was so labored, so rapid, that it betrayed his anxiety even though the green flash of his eyes was unwavering.  
  
"What do you want?" he queried in what he supposed was a caustic tone; but his voice shook, almost imperceptibly, and the blaze burned truth between us, leaving his defenses in a charred heap of rubble, drawing forth the fear in his eyes.  
  
I advanced, and flame and forest and darkness melted away, a painted backdrop, leaving nothing between us. He stood his ground, his eyes spears of defiance. I grasped his chin, made him look at me—my lips touched his, a startled noise being torn from his throat despite his lack of physical resistance. The kiss was fleeting. I pulled back, stroked his hair, his cheek, never breaking eye contact. He kissed me again.


End file.
